


Somnambulism

by Renwick



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Crack, Gen, general silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26356492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renwick/pseuds/Renwick
Summary: She stumbles into the living room, making a beeline for Nayeon.“Wow,” Nayeon says, whistling lowly. She takes a moment to appraise Sana from the couch before grimacing. “You look like shit.”“Thanks,” Sana groans, falling face first into cushions.
Kudos: 29





	Somnambulism

**Author's Note:**

> Something I dug out of the vault as a refresher to writing again as I finally attempt to finish one of a dozen unfinished pieces. 
> 
> Cheers.

Sana’s not sure how she’s still on her own two feet. 

She stumbles into the living room, making a beeline for Nayeon. 

“Wow,” Nayeon says, whistling lowly. She takes a moment to appraise Sana from the couch before grimacing. “You look like shit.” 

“Thanks,” Sana groans, falling face first into cushions. 

Her glasses press into the bridge of her nose uncomfortably, and she’s sure the lenses are dirty and blurred now, but Sana can’t bring herself to move. The couch is a sweet, sweet respite from the creaky metal folding chairs she’s been sitting on between shoots for the past six hours. 

“I’m so tired.”

“Then go to bed, you big baby,” Nayeon says, her voice equal parts fond and exasperated. 

“I want to be a rock in my next life,” Sana mumbles, voice muffled by the suede, but Nayeon’s laugh is lilting, melodic, and hearty in all the ways Sana knows to be precisely Im Nayeon.

Sana feels a little guilty, complaining aimlessly when she should've immediately slipped under her pink comforter, but Nayeon just smiles at her knowingly and shakes her head. They’ve all had to mom each other at some point. 

Nayeon runs a careful hand through her hair, fingers gently working at the knots of bleach-damaged strands. It’s comforting, and Sana feels her already heavy eyelids grow even heavier. Minutes pass, or maybe seconds - she’s not sure. Only during the night does time seem to stop, and it’s something Sana still has trouble comprehending. 

Everything about idol life is like a whirlwind. Endless events, travel plans, and schedules come one after the other, and maybe she doesn’t have any semblance of a circadian rhythm any more. She’s slept on scratchy cots, old couches, and even the shitty carpet floor of their van contorted in every possible way her body could fit. Being able to sleep anywhere and at any time isn’t a superpower, it’s just part of the job. 

Sana feels the dark of sleep creeping into her mind, her thoughts fraying at the edges, but Nayeon’s familiar words float into her consciousness. 

“Shower first. Don’t sleep in your makeup.”

“Don’t wanna,” Sana whines, smushing her face further into the suede couch. 

“Come on, Nayeon,” Jihyo says, padding into the living room with one of those stupid wide-brimmed hats on that Sana knows all too well. “Let’s go.”

“Go?” Sana mumbles, brows knitting together and her last two functioning brain cells working on overtime trying to come up with an answer.

She squints at the display under the TV. 

_ 22:24 _ .

“Don’t worry about it, Sana,” Nayeon says tersely. She shrugs and grabs her car keys from the bowl on the coffee table. Sana frowns when Nayeon's hand leaves her head, fingers slipping through the strands.

Jihyo's voice floats in from the foyer. “You don’t have to drive me, Nayeon.” 

“I paid too much for my Maserati for  _ you _ to drive it,” Nayeon quips. 

“Weird flex but okay,” Jihyo giggles, and Sana can hear the telltale sound of Nayeon punching Jihyo in the shoulder as the door closes with a final thud. 

Sana rolls over to stare at the ceiling and blinks a few times. Her focus on the peeling drywall waxes and wanes as her blurry thoughts wander. 

Her mind replays though the day as if it were a grainy movie. It starts with the tangy taste of the bibimbap they made in the show today and the crinkling of the oversized food prep gloves on their hands when Momo tried to feed her a bit too large of a bite. She remembers the way the flecks of rice stuck to the edge of her lips, the way Nayeon offered to kiss them off her making Jeongyeon cringe so hard it gave her a double chin. 

It wasn’t particularly good bibimbap, the texture dry and coarse after being under the stage lights thoughtout the shoot. She wonders if she was good enough. It had been a little embarrassing feeling so unfamiliar with the simple act of chopping vegetables. Sometimes Sana tells herself that it’ll come with time. Maybe when she’s a mom. All moms seem to have an innate sense of what to put in and just how much is really enough. 

Then something catches her eye.

A bright, seafoam green light seems to flood through the cloth, a light far harsher than the yellowing headlights of delivery trucks that always seem to pass by. 

Her chest tight, she gingerly pulls aside the curtains to take a look. 

Looming over the street, beyond the tops of the trees, a silver disc sits menacingly against the night sky. Immediately, Sana steps away from the window and gulps. She bounds quickly but quietly across the living room as if whatever noise she makes will alert the thing hanging in the sky. Surely there was some place to hide in the kitchen, because, although she had been practicing, her invisiblity still was finicky at best. 

Sana winces at the cold tile as she moves into the kitchen, eyes scanning the room. No way could she fit in one of the cabinets or the narrow, meticulously organized shelves of the pantry. 

Mina’s voice floats into her consciousness. “Sana?” 

But the table - she could hide under the table! It wasn’t much, but the sturdy wood would provide some modicum of shelter. 

“Earth to Sana,” Mina says, waving her hand in front of Sana’s face. 

“Minari,” Sana gasps, reaching out to grasp Mina by the shoulders. “I thought I was invisible!”

Mina furrows her brows. “Excuse me?”

“Quick! Under the table!” Sana barks, pulling Mina along. “The aliens are coming and I don’t know if your hypnosis is enough.” 

Mina tries to form a response, but it’s too little too late as Sana slides underneath the table with a firm hold on Mina’s arm. 

With a dull thunk, Mina’s forehead hits the edge of the table as she falls backward onto the tile. 

“Fuck,” she hisses, one hand over her face. “Sana!”

“Come on!” Sana says urgently, gut coiling with her nervousness. Why doesn’t Mina get it? Why doesn’t Mina want to understand? 

“Wake up!”

And Sana blinks. 

She’s still in the kitchen, still under the table, and still in front of a flustered, red faced Mina. 

“Oh my god,” Mina groans, delicately releasing a string of curses under her breath. “Finally.”

Sana looks down at her hands, then looks back up at Mina. “Did I just…?”

“Sleepwalk? Yes.” Mina lets out a heavy sigh and drags Sana out from underneath the table. “You’re going to bed now.”

If Sana was going to be honest with herself, going to bed sounded pretty good right about now.

“You’re not hypnotizing me, are you?” Sana asks, pouting.

“It’s called being convincing,” Mina says, a wry smile on her lips as she pushes Sana in the direction of their shared bedroom. “I’ll even tuck you in.”

“Alright. Deal.”


End file.
